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linecrosser · 1 month
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Febwhump 2024 - Day 20 - Human Weapon (Alt Prompt No.4)
Teenage MBJ having a blast for once, just being his demon self. This does not go well for SQH, who is definitely not used to the rough handling! Luckily he only suffered bruises, no breaks.
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kybercrystals94 · 1 month
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Embroidered Skulls
Read here on Ao3!
Febuwhump 2024 | Day 20 | Prompt 20: Truth Serum
Rated: G | Words: 1092 | A slight mishap leads to some honest answers. [Character Focus: Tech, Hunter, Echo, Crosshair, Wrecker]
I am steeling my little heart for season 3…so light hearted whump is being served here today ^_^
“Ah, you’re back,” Tech says, glancing up when Hunter and Echo clamber up the ramp of the ship. “Wrecker and Crosshair should be returning in short order as well.”
Hunter and Echo exchange glances, wordless communication flashing between them in microexpressions Tech cannot read.
“Did the extraction go according to plan? Were there any issues?” Tech asks.
Echo stiffens at the question, and Hunter turns away to drop the small crate of serum on one of the crash seats.
“It…went. It was fine,” Hunter says, his back still to Tech. “We’re fine.”
“We’re fine,” Echo agrees with a sharp nod.
Tech narrows his gaze.
“I mean…” Echo continues, looking uncomfortable. “We’re not injured. But there was a mishap.”
“Echo,” Hunter groans.
“A mishap?” Tech presses. “What sort of mishap?”
Echo shifts from one artificial leg to the other. “Well…”
Hunter spins around, pushing Echo aside. “We lost one of the vials. That’s all. It was destroyed.”
“One of the truth serum vials?” Tech keeps himself carefully composed. “Were either of you exposed?”
Hunter huffs, crossing his arms. “Were you exposed?”
“That is not a logical response,” Tech says, deadpan.
“Yeah, well,” Hunter sputters, “Why aren’t you answering the question?”
Tech rolls his eyes. “No. I was not exposed because I wasn’t there. I’m going to assume that you both were exposed which explains why you are behaving erratically.”
“You can’t tell Wrecker or Crosshair,” Echo pleads.
“Echo! Stop talking,” Hunter cries.
“You stop talking,” Echo shoots back. “You’re the one asking Tech if he was exposed to the serum you dropped half a klick away!”
“That’s because someone didn’t make sure the second latch on the crate was secure!”
“Oh, so it’s my fault?”
“Yes!”
“At least we now know that the serum is effective,” Tech sighs, picking up the crate of drugs to stow away before Wrecker inadvertently causes more mayhem.
“Tech,” Hunter cries, trailing after him, “is there an antidote?”
“The effects should wear off on their own with no detriment to your health.”
“But Tech…”
Tech locks up the crate and turns to his brother. “Hunter, do you honestly think I have an antidote to a newly discovered truth serum just lying around in the med kit?”
Hunter hesitates. “Yes?”
“That was a rhetorical question, but I appreciate your honesty,” Tech says with a barely concealed grin as he brushes past Hunter back into the main hold.
“Tech, this isn’t funny!”
“That entirely depends on which side of the argument you’re on,” Tech says. “And I’m sure that Wrecker and Crosshair will be on my side.”
“You can’t tell them!”
“I won’t tell them anything. The two of you on the other hand…”
“Maker, Tech, you have to help us,” Echo says.
A distinct voice bellows outside the ship, “We’re back! Did you miss us?”
Hunter and Echo give Tech an beseeching look, and he almost pities them.
Almost.
Wrecker comes bounding into the ship followed by the much more sedate sniper. Crosshair hits the control to close the door before turning on the group still crowded in the hull. “Is something wrong?” he asks, taking off his helmet.
“Why would something be wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” Hunter says quickly.
Too quickly.
Crosshair smirks. “What did you do?”
Hunter’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Crosshair’s gaze slides to Echo. “What did he do?”
“Hunter broke a vial of the truth serum,” Echo says.
Crosshair’s face goes slack with surprise for a moment before a wicked grin curls across his face. “Did he now? That’s unfortunate.”
“What does that mean?” Wrecker asks, looking concerned as he glances between the color drained faces of Echo and Hunter.
“It means that loose lips crash starships, Wrecker,” Crosshair says.
Wrecker looks puzzled for a moment before it clicks, and he smiles broadly. “Ah, I get it.”
“There’s nothing to get,” Hunter snaps. “Tech, get us out of here. We have a mission to complete.”
Tech nods and heads for the cockpit, Echo following closely behind him.
“If you think I’m going to help you not inadvertently answer incessant questions, you are mistaken,” Tech says, settling into the pilot’s chair and flicking switches for the startup sequence.
“How long will it take for this to get out of our systems?” Echo asks.
Tech sighs. “I may know many things, Echo, but even I have my limits. I would need access to the research and chemical makeup of the drug to accurately answer your question.”
“Give me your best guess.”
“You will not like it.”
“Tech!”
“I would estimate that you and Hunter will experience the effects of the drug for approximately one standard week.”
“No! You’re lying!”
Tech smiles. “At least one of us can.”
Echo drops into the copilot’s chair with a growl. “You’re the worst.”
Tech gets them situated in a hyperspace lane before a tangle of cajoling voices approach the cockpit, and Hunter enters followed by Wrecker and Crosshair. Hunter sits down, and turns his chair away from his siblings.
“C’mon, Hunter,” Wrecker says, “Don’t you want to tell us?”
“No!”
Crosshair chuckles. “He’s telling the truth.”
“Shut up, Cross.”
“But really, Hunter, we need to know…where’d you learn how to embroider skulls onto your bandanas? Or do you have them done somewhere? And if that’s the case, then where?”
Hunter decidedly keeps his jaw locked shut.
“It would be more effective if you asked the questions individually,” Tech offers. The look of utter betrayal Hunter shoots him is heartbreaking, but the engineer simply shrugs. “This is a research opportunity I am unwilling to pass up.”
Echo chuckles, drawing Crosshair’s attention. “You know something about this, don’t you?” he asks, pointing at the cyborg accusingly.
Hunter’s eyes widen, and Echo swallows.
“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” Echo says, evading the question carefully.
“Where does Hunter keep his art projects?”
Echo scoffs. “Hunter doesn’t do art projects,” he says, looking relieved. A fatal mistake.
“Where does Hunter keep his embroidery kit?” Tech specifies.
“In a box under the nav computer. There’s a hollow behind the main hard drive,” Echo says.
“Echo!” Hunter gasps.
Crosshair and Wrecker exchange thrilled glances before racing out of the cockpit. Hunter goes after them, ordering them to leave his stuff alone.
“How did you find out about Hunter’s sewing project?” Tech asks wryly.
“Eh, I found it one day when I was doing repairs.”
The two are quite a moment while they listen to the indistinct squabbling and laughter behind them.
“But really, Tech, how long until this stuff wears off?”
END
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maggie-atwood · 1 month
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"It's not your fault"
@febuwhump Day 20:  Truth Serum
Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Era: Alexandria (S5)
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: alcohol use, smoking, grief, explicit language
A/N: Part 2 to “What’s another for the collection?” But can also be enjoyed on it’s own (if you like feeling sad)
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Daryl waves a lazy hand over his shoulder back to Aaron and Eric, who watch him leave from in front of their open garage door. Walking back towards the group’s shared house, Daryl’s mind reels over the work he’s going to do tomorrow, the parts that he thinks the broken down bike will need before he can take it out on runs with Aaron. He’s actually, dare he say, excited for this?
But underneath that excitement, another feeling gnaws at him: rejection. He still feels unwelcome within the walls of Alexandria. He’s seen the way the residents all look at him on the porch, the way that they scurry to the sidewalk on the other side of the street when they have to pass him. He thinks about how the feeling paralyzed him outside of Deanna’s home, not allowing him to enter the party where his entire family was enjoying the festivities. That’s how he ended up at Aaron and Eric’s in the first place.
As he trudges along, he can still hear the music and the laughter coming from the Party. He doesn’t bother stopping and even considering going in this time - he knows that he’s not wanted there. A few of you had tried to convince him to go, but there was no point: he just doesn’t fit in with these people. So he continues walking.
Daryl doesn’t stop until he hears a loud plunk of something falling in water. He grabs his knife from his belt - the only weapon he’s still allowed to carry here - and moves in to investigate. He’s expecting a walker, or maybe an animal he can catch for tomorrow’s breakfast. But he didn’t expect to find you.
You are standing on the bank of the small lake in the middle of town. You are still dressed for the party - short green dress, your hair in loose waves flowing over your shoulders. You’re barefoot, your heeled sandals laying in the sand next to a bottle of something, probably liquor from the way you are stumbling about. You pick up a rock, and toss it into the water with another plunk.
“You suck at skippin’ rocks,” Daryl says from the darkness, causing you to jump. Your hand instinctively reaches to your belt for your knife, but then you remember you don’t have it with you because of this stupid dress Carol convinced you to wear. 
When you turn to him, he can just make out your face in the moonlight. Your cheeks are streaked with tears, mixed with some of the black makeup you are wearing, and your eyes are shining with emotion.
“You alright?” Daryl asks, putting his knife away and stepping towards you. Shaking your head, you reach down for another rock, nearly falling on your face as you do. Daryl reaches a hand out to try and steady you but you pull away from him, tossing the rock into the water. 
“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, keeping a close eye on your unsteady steps. You shake your head again, then pick up the bottle and tag a big swig from it. Daryl almost laughs at the way your face scrunches up from the taste of whatever is in it. Taking the bottle from you, Daryl sits down in the sand next to your shoes, drinking some of it down. Bourbon, he realizes, impressed by your choice.
The two of you stay this way for a while. Daryl watches you fumble about, throwing rock after rock into the lake while periodically taking more drinks from the bottle. When you find a particularly large rock, he watches as you struggle to lift it with both hands, take a spinning start to throw it, and then fall face first into the water.
“Alright,” he says, standing up and dusting the sand off of his pants. “Yer done.”
“‘m fine,” you slur, trying to stand but then tripping again, falling to your knees in the shallow water.
“‘course you are,” he says, looping an arm around you. With his other hand, he carries the bottle and your shoes, and he walks you back to your shared house. 
When the two of you reach it, Daryl deposits you on the front steps, leaving your shoes and the bourbon next to you, before ducking inside the house to find a towel. When he comes back out, you’re shivering, water still dripping off of your wet hair onto your back and shoulders. He carefully wraps the towel around you before sitting down next to you. He doesn’t say anything. He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready, so instead he just sits and watches the night until you are.
Taking another sip of bourbon, the liquor starting to warm you back up from within, you finally speak.
“I miss her,” you say in a small voice. Daryl’s head drops. He doesn’t need you to say her name for him to know who you’re talking about. “She woulda loved it here,” you press on, still staring out into the night. “She woulda fit right in, too. Not like us.”
“Yeh,” Daryl grunts. He snatches the bottle back from you and takes a long sip. He’s barely allowed himself to feel the pain of her loss, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to talk about it. But he wants to be there for you, so he’ll try.
“I’m glad you killed that woman,” you say, hate lacing your voice. Daryl looks over at you, startled. He’s seen you upset and angry before, but he’s never heard your voice take on such a dark tone. “I woulda killed everyone in that hospital if I were there.”
“Nah,” he says softly. “She wouldn’t’a wanted that.” 
“She wouldn’t have wanted to get shot in the head either,” you shoot back, looking at him. But when you see the pain in his eyes, you immediately feel ashamed. You’re hurting, but so is he and you’re just making it worse. “Sorry,” you mutter to the ground.
“‘s alright,” Daryl murmurs. He slides a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, taking out two and lighting them. Then he hands one to you, which you gladly take. Putting it between your lips, you take a big inhale, basking in the burn in your throat as the smoke fills your lungs. You hold it in for a few moments before blowing it out through your nose. Daryl chews on the end of his, both of you lost in your own thoughts.
“It shoulda been me,” you say finally. Daryl looks at you again, but your stare is forward, blank, as if you’re reliving that night. “Hell, it coulda been me, if that walker didn’t take me down.” 
You both sit there, remembering: how when the funeral home that the three of you were holed up in got overrun, and Daryl yelled for you and Beth to run out the back. When you and Beth ran out the door, you were immediately met with more walkers. You had pushed Beth ahead when one tried to grab her, and it fell onto you, knocking you to the ground. While you wrestled with it, avoiding its teeth, trying to dig your knife into its head, that's when you heard the sound of voices, the running footsteps, the car door slamming. By the time you had stabbed the walker through the skull and rolled out from under it, Daryl had reached you, and you both watched in horror as the car with the white crosses painted on it sped off into the night.
“I coulda stopped them” you murmur, taking another drag of your cigarette. Daryl watches your free hand rub a spot on your side, the one where he knows the long scar sits, the one that he gave you to staunch the bleeding of your injury after the prison fell. He knows that you’re thinking about how Beth held you close while he did it, comforting you with her kind words as you screamed in pain through the belt in your mouth. 
“Nah, you couldn’t,” he tells you.
“But I should have,” you say, angry again. “If I didn’t get knocked down by that fucking walker. If I was stronger or faster or -” You’re cut off when a sob erupts from your throat. Dropping your face into your lap, you let the tears take you over. Shoulders shaking, you cry and cry and cry. 
Unsure of how to help you, Daryl wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him. You fall into his chest, your cigarette forgotten in your hand. Daryl rubs your arm, pressing his face into your hair to stop his own tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. 
“It’s all my fault,” you cry, your voice muffled as you press your face further into his chest. 
“Hey,” Daryl says, prying you off of him. Flinging his cigarette away, he takes your face in both of his hands, his heart breaking from the pain he sees written all over it. He swipes at your tears with his thumbs, which only smears your makeup even more. “It is not your fault,” he tells you, voice firm but still gentle. “‘s not.”
You sniffle, looking up at him through your wet lashes. The pain on his face is evident too; his brows are furrowed and his blue eyes are shining. A single tear falls from one, and before he can try to hide his face in shame, you reach up and wipe it away, leaving your hand on his cheek. Without meaning to, Daryl leans into it, into the comfort that it provides.
“It’s not your fault either then,” you tell him, softly. But Daryl shakes his head, more tears wetting his cheeks. “If it ain’t mine, it ain’t yours either,” you reassure him. 
Daryl drops his head, pressing his forehead to yours. You let your eyes close at his touch, breathing him in. He smells of bourbon, cigarettes, gasoline, and is that even a little bit of soap? You bask in it, letting it bring you comfort, even though your heart feels broken beyond repair.
When Daryl lets out a big sniffle, you let him pull his face away, and he wipes it with one hand as he pulls you in to lean on him with the other. You rest your head on his shoulder, reaching for the bottle of bourbon again. Daryl lights two more cigarettes, passing you one again, and the two of you sit in a sad but comfortable silence for a while.
After the party ends and everyone says their goodbyes, Carol and Rick are only partially surprised to find you and Daryl still on the porch. You’re both asleep, you with your head on his chest and him with his arms around you, surrounded by an empty bottle and a crushed cigarette pack. Smirking, they both step around you two to walk into the house, but Carol quickly reappears with a blanket, draping it over you and Daryl before heading back inside for the night.
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kabie-whump · 1 month
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♡ Febuwhump Day 20: Truth Serum ♡
@febuwhump
Content: torture, waterboarding mention, blood in mouth mention, claustrophobia mention, burning mention
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Stoic Whumpee who is really good at hiding their reactions from Sadistic Wumper
It pisses Whumper off. They’re doing this for entertainment, but Whumpee refuses to do so much as whimper. It’s as if the torture doesn’t even effect them.
So Whumper feeds them a truth serum.
“Does this hurt?”
Whumpee coughs, freezing water dripping from the tips of their choppy hair. “Yes, but it’s bearable.”
Okay. New method.
“Does this hurt?”
Whumpee spits out blood before they answer. “Yes, but it’s bearable.”
New method.
“Does this hurt?”
Whumpee flinches slightly at the absent click of the lighter. But still: “Yes, but it’s bearable.”
There had to be something that Whumpee couldn’t find bearable. Something that shook them to their core.
“What’s your biggest fear?”
“Tight spaces give me panic attacks.”
Bingo.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
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simpforchuchu · 1 month
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Last One
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Prompts: DAY 20 - last man standing @febuwhump Characters: Draken x reader Fandom: Tokyo Revengers
A/n for prompts: Hello guys! This is my first time trying a prompt challenge. I hope you like the short fics I wrote. I will finish them by writing some of the requests I have. I love you 💜
Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...
Thank you and love you 🥰
Warnings: mention of fights
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Fights… Draken couldn't remember a time in his life when he hadn't been in a fight. He had to fight every day since he was a kid. Sometimes for himself, sometimes for his friends.
Toman's second strongest one, Toman’s vice captain, Ken Ryuguji.
This time it was a very crowded group. No one was stupid enough to dare attack him alone anyway. He wanted the fight to end as soon as possible and go away.
There were many men lying on the ground around him. Those from the rival gang had failed to defeat him again. But Draken was also quite tired.
Y/n had been waiting for him in front of the cafe where they would meet for about an hour. Draken was never late. She was sure something had happened. That's why she came to find him.
She looked around. She passed through many streets and finally saw him.
There was a tall man standing in the middle of a lot of men on the ground. There was one last man standing and it was her boyfriend.
“Ken!”
The tall boy turned in that direction when his name was called. He looked tired. He had wounds. But when he saw the young girl, he smiled. He smiled big.
Seeing Y/n always made him smile…
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batrogers · 1 month
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Febuwhump Day 20: Truth Serum
Fandom: Linked Universe
Approx 1300 words
Rated T for alcohol consumption and mature themes (politics and violence, not sex)
(References a lot of my own backstory ideas for the boys from other headcanon posts I've made, and other writing.)
In which the Chain tries to relax, and a few lips get too loose.
“Frankly some of you should be grateful you don’t have a Queen,” Twilight said, and Link leaned back in his chair and reconsidered if he really wanted to keep up with the amount of liquor the others were having.
They were already a pitcher of arkhi and two bottles of wine down, most of which had gone into the older men’s glasses. Link was drinking, but he’d been drinking kumis and beer most of his life because the water wasn’t safe. It was getting better, slowly – as far as he could tell, monarchy and Hyrule seemed to make the world repair itself when they were aligned – but that wasn’t Twilight’s experience.
Wasn’t the rest, either.
“Why not?” Wind retorted.
“A queen’s at least better than a King,” Time said. He spoke over the smaller boy, his chair tilted back and a small smile on his face as he looked into his nearly empty cup.
“There’s no reason a Queen’s better than a king. Rusl doesn’t trust her, and he did know the old King.”
Link frowned. “Is it usually a King causing problems for all of us?” he asked. It was true a King had been why the younger Zelda was put into a centuries long sleep, but...
“King Daphnes did what he could to save Hyrule,” Wind insisted.
“I know King Rhoam was trying...” Wild added.
Warriors – sitting between Twilight and Time, and Link was beginning to suspect this was for the best – chuckled. “We haven’t had a King in a long time, but everyone does say it was a Queen that set us up for where we are now.”
Time raised his eyebrow. “That sounds like a bad thing.”
“Oh, it is.”
Link looked desperately at the bar. Legend and Sky were getting more food for their table, but they’d gotten caught up talking and didn’t seem likely to return soon, but by all the Gods Link hoped they would before this got any further.
“I told you,” Twilight continued. “A Queen isn’t better!”
“Does your Zelda know you think that?” Four asked.
“Yes!”
Time burst into laughter. “I imagine she takes that well.”
Twilight slapped one hand on the table. “She doesn’t have to take it well. It’s not like she can argue, they haven’t found the path into the castle grounds.”
“Is your Rusl one of the Sheikah?” Warriors asked, and Link rapidly tried to remember who the Sheikah even were. Judging by the look on Wild’s face, this was bad.
“No. Why?” Twilight made a face. “The Sheikah nearly died out, their village was destroyed.”
“Did the Royal Family kill them off?” Time asked.
Wild put his face in his hands. “Hylia’s fucking tits,” he muttered and pushed his chair back from the table. He got up, and the other three didn’t even notice. Wind followed. Four, seated next to him, continued to watch with a look of near fascination. Link was pretty sure he was drunk as well, given his size.
“Why would you guess that?” Twilight retorted.
Time shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. As if there was nothing unusual at all about his guess. As if he wasn’t about the say the worst thing Link could imagine: “I’ve seen what they did for the Royal Family.”
Warriors reached for the pitcher of wine again, and Link debated if he should take it away before they dug the hole deeper. “For them or to them?”
“For them.” Time blinked and offered his cup. “Why would you ask about what they did to them?”
“Zelda spent nearly four months not revealing herself again in case Impa was working with the Witches to try and kill her. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the Sheikah killed a King.”
Link’s throat caught, but that, of course, was the moment Legend and Sky returned. He waved for them to sit down and Legend shut his mouth on the obvious question and laid down the basket of bread before sitting to whisper in his ear.
“What the fuck are they talking about?”
Link swallowed. “Their royal families and the Sheikah, now.”
Time, unhelpfully, laughed again. “Did someone start telling that story then?”
“What story?” Sky asked.
“That it was a Sheikah who killed the King.” Time took a long drink and wiped his mouth. “I mean, I know Twilight comes after me so I suppose the distrust of the Royal Family would stick after what Zelda’s father did.”
“What did he do?” Legend asked. He looked like he wanted to regret it immediately, but stuck it out and kept his face even.
Time stared blindly into his cup and shrugged. “He tried to change Hyrule to suit himself. He killed Zelda’s mother and sisters and left her alive thinking she couldn’t inherit the goddess’ blood because he considered her a son. He was wrong, obviously.”
“Didn’t you say he was still alive?” Twilight asked.
“Oh, he is, but he can’t do anything.” Time gestured broadly with his glass, drunk enough he nearly spilled. “Zelda would hardly let him try even if he could. He narrowly survived an attempt on his life and stays in his rooms now.”
“By the Sheikah?” Warriors guessed.
Time, unnervingly, laughed again. “Well. Sort of. What about yours, Twilight? Did Rusl kill the King?”
Twilight sighed. “Yeah, him and a group of his friends. They were helpful when Zant took over, because that meant they could get me into the castle and help out but Zelda knows they exist now so it makes it harder.”
“So better for them you’re with them and she can’t retaliate,” Time pointed out.
“Can’t she just tell you to stop?” Warriors asked. “Like – wait you’re not in the army are you?”
“No, of course not.” Twilight rolled his eyes and shot Warriors an annoyed look. “Why are you?”
“What?” Warriors blinked from him to the rest of them. “It’s not like I had a choice, I’m the eldest son. All of us belong to the army.”
Four sat up straight. “Wait, belong to, like you’re stuck there?”
“Yeah, like that.” Warriors toasted the smaller man. “You’re too young still, aren’t you?”
“For another year or so, but I’m not sticking around for it.”
“Who would?” Legend muttered. “Hylia’s cunt, Wars, just leave.”
Warriors’ cup hit the table heavily and he spread his hands with a dark smile. “I can’t, Legend. It’s not allowed. If I go anywhere, my mother and sister goes to jail, and me too if I’m anywhere they can find me.”
Time put his hand on Warriors’ shoulder then. He closed his eyes with an almost pained look, and Link swallowed the lump in his throat.
He knew of people trapped like that. Usually young women in the cities, caught by charity that turned into demands they work off the debt before they could leave – but what debt had Warriors had? Was it something about the war?
He couldn’t ask. Wouldn’t. He could already tell the question had left him cross and angry, and Time pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We all have duties we can wind up trapped by,” Time said. “Fuck this...”
“Sure you’re trapped by loyalty. Not all of us get hung up on that,” Twilight snapped. “Did Zelda buy you off?”
“She gave me Lon Lon Ranch, if that’s what you mean,” Time said. He turned a deceptively mild smile Twilight’s way. “Mostly because I needed some protection after she blamed her attempt on her father’s life on me.”
“On you?” Warriors’ chair hit the ground with a snap. “Why?”
“It was convenient. Everyone already knew I’d lost my mind in the last battle.” He touched his face, over his scarred eye, then shook himself off. “Excuse me, I should go to bed. You, too.”
Warriors didn’t need more convincing. Twilight muttered something rude under his breath, and left not for the bedrooms upstairs but the stables. Link let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and swore.
“How much of that do you think they’ll remember in the morning?” Legend muttered. “Fuck. Hyrule, what the fuck else did they even say?”
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nade2308 · 1 month
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Given that Jack was given the truth serum in 1x12, it was the perfect moment to choose for the day 20 prompt.
@thethistlegirl
@febuwhump
A03 link
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janetm74fics · 1 month
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For the Febuwhump!
20 Truth serum and John!!
Information
@febuwhump day 20
With thanks to @the-original-sineater and @mariashades
~
He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten here.
John’s last memory was of needing a break from the astronomy conference he was attending. Too many people clamouring for his attention, too little fresh air, and he had fled the building at the first opportunity.
He remembered taking in a deep, deep breath of cool, crisp air and smiling for the first time that day. How he had ended up here, in a dank, pokey room in just his underwear and watch, John had no idea. Although…the metallic taste at the back of his mouth and the dull ache in his head told him that at some point he had been drugged and possibly hit over the head? Ugh – it was infuriating not knowing, John hated not knowing.
Glancing up he saw that there was a small camera in the ceiling, no doubt watching him, and immediately John felt a stirring of hope. If there was a camera here then he could get EOS into the system – all he had to do was touch something wired into that system and that would be that. He would need to bide his time as the camera was too high for him.
He didn’t have long to wait.
A bolt was thrown and the door opened, two men entering and grabbing him under the arms and dragging John out before he could even get his feet underneath him. John stumbled between them as they led him a short distance down a hallway to a room with a chair, a table and a man in it.
They unceremoniously dumped him in the chair and used zip ties to bind his wrists to the arms and his ankles to the legs. To secure his wrist one of the men undid and took off his watch, passing it to the waiting man. John watched the man examine it and then toss it aside onto the table, struggling only slightly as he was easily strapped down.
Once John was fully secure the man picked a small case off the table and stepped towards him. John didn’t like the grin on the man’s face. Not at all.
‘Good morning, John. I hope that you slept well.’ ‘Not too bad. Breakfast was missing, though.’ ‘Aha. I’m sorry about that, but you and I have pressing business that cannot wait for the niceties to be observed.’ ‘What do you want?’ ‘Well, I could be trite and say the usual. Money, power, you know, the usual things.’ ‘But you’re not going to, are you?’ ‘No. No, I’m not. Because there is a much better currency available to the world.’ ‘Ah. You want intelligence.’ ‘Bravo, John. No wonder people in the know refer to you as the smart Tracy.’ ‘I suppose that you want the Thunderbirds then.’ ‘Oh no. I want something far more worthwhile.’ ‘What? What intelligence could I possibly have?’ ‘John, John, John. You have knowledge of schedules, of dates and times. It isn’t you that has the intelligence, John.’
The man leaned forward, hands gripping John’s forearms and stopping just short of their heads touching.
‘You are going to tell me when and where the next surprise inspection of Tracy Industries is.
He saw the moment John realised what was at stake.
‘Yes. You get it. You have the knowledge. It is Scott who has the intelligence.’ ‘What possible intelligence could Scott have?’ ‘That is for me to know and your brother to give to me.’ ‘I won’t help you.’
And with that John did the only thing he had available. He headbutted the man.
The satisfying crunch of bone only slightly mitigated the pain of the headbutt, and John saw stars different to the ones he usually saw. The man reared back with a string of curse words and one of the thugs with him lunged forwards to help. The boss waved him aside angrily.
‘So, you’ve made yourself clear. Let me make myself just as clear.’
He picked up the case off the floor and opened it, grinning when he saw the contents. He picked up a syringe and held it up to the light, doing that classic ‘squirt the liquid into the air’ thing that made people’s blood run cold.
It made John’s blood run cold.
There was nothing he could do as one thug put him into a headlock and the boss injected him with the vial.
‘There, that wasn’t so difficult now, was it. Have a taste of the latest truth serum to be created. They tell me it usually takes about 5 minutes to kick in, unlike most other truth serums. And unlike most this one has a very short half-life. Three hours and it will be out of your system and no one will ever know.’ ‘I’ll know.’ ‘Well, that’s where this second injection comes in. 10cc’s of forgetfulness and no, you won’t. And then Scott can go on his little tour and be none the wiser.’
John felt cold, like a wave of coldness had just swept over him. His mouth was dry with fear. He wasn’t trained for this! Scott and Gordon had both undergone training as part of their respective militaries, but none of the others had. He certainly hadn’t.
But then John thought hard. He had to do something to keep them from knowing the truth. Scott – Scott was due to leave for the next inspection in three days, to their hometown TI base for his usual surprise inspection. The fact that the inspections were not as spontaneous as expected made John curse. They had a hole in their security planning.
He may not have gone through SERE training, but John had knowledge of how Scott had used it – not that he would ever tell Scott that – and John knew he could call on that.
Three hours. That’s all he had to hold on for.
The boss man perched on the table and pulled a tablet out, tapping away while he waited. John’s vision swam as he watched. He must have made some kind of gesture for the man walked forward and stood before him. He needed to channel his inner Scott.
‘Is your name John Tracy?’ ‘Tracy.’ ‘John Tracy?’ ‘I’m Tracy. Scott Tracy.’ giggle ‘No – no you’re not.’ ‘I am! Can’t you see my dimples?’
The boss buried his head in his hand.
‘John, concentrate.’ ‘Like orange?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Ok.’ ‘Your name is John Tracy.’ ‘Tracy.’ ‘Where do you work?’ ‘Space! Space – I love space. Did you know that there are around 100 billion stars in the Milky Way? And we live in just a tiny arm of the galaxy! I love stars. Did you know that stars burn between 30,000 and 60,000 kelvin? And that they are mostly hydrogen and thus burn quickly and look blue? Did you know that the blue of Earth from space is beautiful? And that Neptune, usually pictured as deep blue, is actually light greenish-blue? Unlike Uranus, which is green because of the methane present in the atmosphere. Talking about gases, did you know that Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune are all considered ‘Gas Planets’ and are collectively as the ‘Jovian Planets’?’
John stopped to take a breath.
‘Yes, thank you for the science lesson. That is not what I wanted to know. What I want to know is…’ ‘On the opposite end of the spectrum we have Venus and Mercury, which are made of rock…’
The man let John drone on about planets for around half an hour before his patience wore thin. Every time John took a breath he jumped in with another question but John was on such a roll. It appeared that the drug did indeed loosen the tongue, but the information John was supposed to be freely giving them was not forthcoming. Maybe he needed to be brought back down to Earth.
The boss man gestured to one of the thugs and with surprising speed the man had darted forward and twisted John’s index finger until it snapped.
John screamed. The pain snapped him back to reality and he watched through the tears as the man tossed the tablet onto the table.
‘Nice to have you back with us, John. Now, to business…’ ‘There are more trees on Earth than there are stars in the Milky Way.’ ‘IF you have quite finished!’ ‘One more. Lunar dust smells like gunpowder and the centre of the galaxy smells like raspberries. I like raspberries.’ ‘Done?’ ‘I’m done.’ ‘Good. When is Scott due his next visit?’ ‘N-n-no. I – I won’t tell you.’ ‘When is Scott due his next visit?’ ‘No. Um…Scott’s not due to Kansas for a long, long time.’ ‘So he’s going to Kansas?’ ‘No. Nope. No way.’ ‘You said Kansas.’ ‘I did not.’ ‘You did.’ ‘Didn’t.’ ‘Did.’ ‘Na ah. Did not, did not, did not!’ ‘John – ‘ ‘Did not times infinity! Ha! I win!’ ‘John, my patience is wearing thin.’ ‘My patience is absolutely fine.’ ‘If you do not tell me what I want to know I shall break another one of your fingers.’
John’s head snapped up.
‘By all means break another finger. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when Scott arrives. He doesn’t take it kindly when someone else hurts one of his brothers.’ ‘Your brother is a long way away from here and doesn’t know where you are.’ ‘Oh. Well, if thinking that brings you comfort, then by all means, continue to think that.’
The man looked over John’s shoulder and frowned before looking back to John. John grinned at him.
‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean that, since you were kind enough to throw your tablet on the table and it connected to my watch, my brothers have known exactly where I was and One’s top speed means that they should be arriving…now.’
The glorious sounds of One’s jet screaming overhead as Scott suddenly slowed her down was music to John’s ears.
He laughed and laughed and laughed as the men fled without him. John was still laughing as Scott cut him free while Gordon and Kayo searched the rest of the building.
Scott held John’s face gently as his laughter turned to a sob.
‘Hey, hey, John? You good?’ ‘Yes, Scott. I’m good now you’re here.’ ‘Let’s get you home.’ ‘Please.’
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em-writes-stuff · 21 days
Text
"please don't"
day 20 of @febuwhump
caretaker and whumpee
1095 words
warnings: implied past abuse, young whumpee
~
Caretaker jumps up when someone knocks on the door. She trips over her feet to get to the door and nearly hits her head on the handle when she gets there. She takes a deep breath and looks through the peephole, not expecting her little brother to be standing there in a bundle of thin blankets. 
She unlocks the door and looks at him. His eyes are unfocused, trained somewhere on the ground. Bruises litter his arms, legs, and what she can see of his torso. His hair is caked in mud and the curls that she took so much time to care for are dull and lifeless. His lip is split and his cheekbone bruised. Basically, he looks like he’s been thrown off a cliff. 
“Whumpee?” She asks, taking a step out onto the porch. 
He steps back on reflex, eyes focusing when he looks at her. For a second, he doesn’t recognize her. Then his eyes light with relief and he slumps forward, falling into her arms. “Caretaker.” 
She catches him, hand coming around his back to support him. “What happened?” 
He shakes his head and leans closer to her, arm wrapping tightly around her waist. “I’m fine.” 
“Ok,” she says. “We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s go inside, alright?” He nods and lets her lead him into the house. “Are you hungry? I’ve got a few microwave meals in the freezer or we could order take out.” 
She stops in the living room and peels him off of her, holding him an arms length away. “That blanket is filthy,” she says without thinking. She takes hold of it and tries to unwrap Whumpee from it, not seeing the terror in his face. 
He swats her hand away and pulls it tighter around himself. “Please,” he says, looking at the ground. “Don’t.” 
Caretaker nods and backs away, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 
She clears her throat and shifts her feet. “So…dinner?” 
Whumpee looks up from the ground and nods. Caretaker smiles softly and turns into the kitchen. “Ok, I’ve got white cheddar macaroni and cheese or beef ravioli. Which do you want?” 
She walks out of the kitchen, both boxes in hand and holds them out to him. He looks at the boxes and shrugs, “Whichever you don’t want.” 
She laughs and turns the boxes toward her, “I bought them both, so I want both of them.” Whumpee’s face falls and she quickly comes up with a solution. “How about I cook both of them, see which one I want then, and bring the other one out to you. We can eat on the couch like we used to when you’d stay home sick from school? Maybe turn on an old movie?” 
He forces a smile and nods, “That sounds nice.” 
She beams and turns back into the kitchen. “I’ll put these in now. You’ve got enough time to go and change if you want to. I know it’s been a while…but you’ve slimmed down so you might fit in your old clothes again.” 
He stands there for a second before walking down the hallway to his old room. 
There’s dust on the handle when he turns it and the door squeaks open. He walks into his room and turns the lamp on, then turns it off when he sees the dust covering it. The door doesn’t quite close, so he does his best before walking over to the window and opening the blinds, letting the afternoon sun filter in. 
Caretaker tiptoes down the hallway and peeks into Whumpee’s room. He’s standing in front of the window with his eyes closed. He’d dropped the blanket and Caretaker turns around, guilty that she would invade Whumpee’s privacy like that. She takes a deep breath and knocks softly on the door. “Hey, there’s about two minutes left. You almost ready?” She can hear him shuffling around in the room and nods to herself. “Just come out when you’re done, ok? I’ll pull a movie up and be on the couch.” 
There’s a sound of confirmation from him and she turns back down the hallway and into the living room. She picks up the remote and scrolls through the channels before finding something that she and Whumpee used to watch all the time. She clicks on it and turns the volume up. 
The microwave beeps and she hurries into the kitchen to take it out before it beeps again. It burns her hand and she drops it, cursing softly to herself. 
The red sauce splatters all over the floor and nearby cabinets. She curses and picks up the ravioli with her fingers, dropping them back in the bowl. Her fingertips burn by the time she’s done, so she runs her hand under cool water for a minute while she digs through a drawer with the other hand, looking for a washcloth. She runs the cloth under the water and wrings it out in the sink. 
The sauce didn’t have time to dry, so it comes up easily, only staining the rug in front of the sink. She rinses the rag out and hangs it on the faucet, then pulls two forks out of the sink to wash. 
She can hear Whumpee’s footsteps in the living room and yells over to him, “I’m almost done! Just need to wash silverware and I’ll be out! Get comfortable, I think there’s a blanket in the cabinet!” 
He doesn’t respond, but she can hear the cabinet open and something fall out. 
“You ok?” She asks, tilting back to look into the living room. 
Whumpee’s stood in front of the cabinet, eyes locked on whatever fell. He’s in long sleeves and sweatpants, both of which pool around him. 
“Whumpee?” 
His head snaps up to look at her and he nods, “Yeah, just…scared me is all.” 
She smiles and dries the forks off with a towel, then sticks them in the bowls and walks to the living room. 
“You get macaroni tonight.” she says, holding the bowl out to him. “Careful, it’s hot.” 
He takes it and picks up a blanket from the floor. Wrapping it around himself, he sits on the couch and scoots back into the corner of it, knees drawn up to his chest. 
Caretaker looks at him and bites her cheek, debating what to do. She decides to pick up a blanket and sit on the other side of the couch, leg extended so it’s almost touching Whumpee. 
For a second, he stares at it, but then turns his attention back to the food. 
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what-the-whump · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Febuwhump 2024 | Day 20 | ALT Human Shield
Power Rangers In Space | 1x05 | Never Stop Searching
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pareidoliaonthemove · 1 month
Note
DAY 20: truth serum - With Kayo and/or Penny
Tête-à-Tête
The punch to her stomach drove all the air from her body, allowing her captors to manhandle her onto a chair, and fasten thick straps around chest, wrist and ankles before she could recover.
Kayo Kyrano gasped behind the blackout hood and gag, desperately trying to get enough air into her body to allow her to fight back, even while part of her brain acknowledged that she was trapped beyond her ability to escape.
Her only hope now was her adopted family would be able to rescue her; and no, the irony was not lost on her.
All she could do was gather intelligence, enough to put her captors behind bars for a long time once she was rescued – provided the rest of International Rescue didn’t end up tied up alongside her. After all, she was their Head of Security, and Covert Ops Agent, and she had been scooped up like a bumbling amateur.
It was embarrassing.
Kayo grunted behind the gag as the fit of the bindings were tested, and extra straps pinioned her upper arms to the chair back, and her legs just below the knee to the top of the chair leg.
Absolutely no way of escaping. She all she could move was her head and her fingers.
It was more than embarrassing; it was mortifying.
Scott would never let her live this down.
A hand grabbed her breast and squeezed roughly, before suddenly being ripped away. There was a snapping sound and the sound of pain – male, if the tone was any guide – indicated that her assailant’s … ‘liberty’ had been noticed and objected to.
“I’m paying you – and handsomely – to bring her to me. Not to satisfy your animal urges. Get out of here. I will deal with you later.”
Kayo froze. She knew that voice. Virgil had once described it as ‘the aural equivalent of an oil spill in an ecological preserve’.
The Hood.
Her uncle.
The fabric covering her head was removed, and Kayo blinked in the light. The room she was in was a tacky exercise in overstated wealth. Clearly located in some kind of industrial facility, the back wall with its riveted metal, pipes, and louvre panels clearly showed that, the panels and riveting on the roof had been transformed into a kind of faux Georgian detailing with gold paint, with a row of Greek columns along the side of the room, transferring the half-pipe into a rectangular shape, and the immense Persian carpet – with the right degree of wear and raggedness to be a genuine antique – lay before an oversized wooden desk behind which hung an enormous gold-coloured ceremonial gong obscuring most of the metal wall. All told, it was the standard ‘rich villains’ lair right out of a B-grade movie.
“Is the light too bright, my dear niece?” her uncle asked, removing the gag.
Kayo looked up at the – undoubtedly genuine crystal – chandelier. “Only the light reflecting off your head … Uncle.”
His eyes flamed momentarily, before he got himself back under control. “Very amusing, I’m sure.”
A snap of his fingers and three minions hurried into the room, two depositing a red leather wing chair before her, and another with a carved wooden incidental table on which stood a bottle of water, a crystal decanter of amber-coloured spirit – probably some obscenely expensive whisky – with two crystal tumblers.
And a hypodermic spray injector and a phial of straw-coloured liquid.
Kayo felt her breath catch in her throat. Whatever was in that phial, it wasn’t anything good.
The Hood seated himself in the chair, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers before him. “Now my dear, I invited you here –”
Kayo lifted an eyebrow. “Invited? Don’t you mean ‘kidnapped’, ‘abducted’ … or is it just ‘stole’ to you? Am I just another possession, like your tacky self-portrait herm?” She indicated the waist high pillars with her uncle’s sculpted head in gold-coloured metal that sat between the columns.
Again The Hood visibly had to reign in his anger at the interruption. “I would much rather it have been an invitation,” he conceded. “But you persist in being … misguided … in your loyalties; so much so that if I desire a tête-à-tête, I am forced to take extreme measures.”
Kayo stared at him in disbelief. “What?”
“So tell me, my dear,” he continued, reaching over to pour a generous measure of the water into one of the tumblers and hold it out to her, “how are you these days?”
She glared at him. “Well, Uncle,” she said, injecting all the sarcasm she could into the title, “I’m a little tied up at the moment. It’s not the best time for your little catchup.”
He forced held the tumbler to her lips and tipped it slightly, Kayo kept her mouth closed and a dribble of water ran down either side of her face. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“This is, however, the best time for me,” he commented. “So I’m afraid we’ll not be … rescheduling.” He returned the tumbler to the side table and poured the spirit from the decanter into the other glass, taking his time to coat the inside of the glass with the liquid, before taking a sip. “How is your dear father these days?”
She clenched her jaw, glaring at him fiercely. “How dare …”
He sighed and replaced the glass before picking up the hypospray injector and phial. “Very well. I tried so hard to avoid this, Kayo, but if you insist on being stubborn …”
He expertly loaded the phial and uncapped the applicator end, before coming to stand at her left side, one hand firmly holding her head tilted toward her right shoulder to expose her neck. A soft pfft of sound, and a vague stinging in her neck told her the drug – whatever it was – had been administered.
Kayo worked to calm her heartbeat. A slower pulse meant slower dispersion throughout the body, meaning that whatever it was would have less time to work its undoubtedly malignant effect.
Her uncle recapped the injector and removed the phial, setting the injector back on the side table and resuming his seat. He held the phial up and thoughtfully rolled it between his fingers, the light catching on stray beads of the liquid to create a miniature halo effect within the bottle.
“It cost me a good deal of money and effort to source this,” he said conversationally. “Worth every cent, of course. A brand-new truth serum, guaranteed to make anybody tell anything, without those pesky side-effects of previous formulas.” He smiled, contented. “And of course, I’ve already made a handsome profit off this little investment.” He tutted. “You would not believe how many politicians and business-men indulge in dirty little habits that they would pay massive amounts of money to keep secret.”
Kayo snorted. “So that’s it. You’re back after the Thunderbirds. I don’t know any details of schematics, I can’t tell you anything.”
The Hood placed the phial back on the table. “No, but you know the security systems,” he said. “You know how to circumvent them.” He smiled, a self-satisfied, predatory smile, the cat that had the cream. “And you would tell me, willingly, with this drug in your system. I could take Tracy Island, the Thunderbirds, and all their secrets.”
Kayo snarled, but her mind was racing. She had had some interrogation training, at her father’s insistence. Even been exposed to different truth serums, so she could learn how to fight them, humiliating sessions which had involved her divulging her rather teen girl crushes. But this felt … nothing like them. The fuzziness, the ‘floating’, the disorientation … all missing. Nonetheless, she fell back on her old training, and clung to her anger. It had always seen her through in the past. It would work now.
And this time, it was easy.
He paused, taking another mouthful of his drink and savouring it, before swallowing. “And so, Kayo, my beloved niece … how are you these days?”
Kayo blinked, “What?” It took every ounce of her self-control not to blurt out an answer, but the utter absurdity of the situation gave her enough of an edge to maintain her control.
“I told you, my dear, I just want to catch up with you.” He stared at her, earnestly. “So, how are you?”
“Very well, thank you.” The words rose unbidden.
“The Tracys are keeping you busy? Not too busy, I hope. It wouldn’t do for you to be overworked.”
“Not so much the Tracys as your Chaos Crew. Any ‘overwork’ I’m experiencing is entirely your fault. Why not give yourself up? Give everyone a break.” That answer was easier, and much more satisfying.
Her uncle chuckled. “Unfortunately, I have plans – very intricate plans, that necessitate the use of those … rather blunt tools.” He eyed her. “Of course, you could always come work for me, and we could accomplish the end result with much less … collateral damage, shall we say, than Havoc and Fuse invariably create.”
“And what would that end result be, exactly?”
He smiled indulgently. “Why, power, of course. Wealth and power. The only two things worth pursuing.”
Kayo raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought love was the ultimate good in life,” she said. A thought struck her. “Haven’t you loved?”
The look he gave her chilled her to the bone. “Oh, yes, my child. I have loved. Three times, I have loved, and three times my heart has been broken. Two are beyond my reach now forever. But the third … I may yet have hope for the third.”
Kayo stared, as the Hood contemplated something only he could see. Her heart beat faster. Three loves, who could they be?
A distant memory of her father’s voice came to her. “Your uncle, he is not a good man, Tanusha. His avarice outweighs his sense of duty. One day, daughter, you will come to understand; but for now it is enough that you know that he would do us harm.”
Almost as if he could read her thoughts, her uncle spoke again. “And how is your dear father? It has been a very long time since I have had news of my beloved half-brother.”
“He is in good health,” Kayo responded, even as she tried to hold her tongue still. “But he still grieves for the people he has lost, and those who have betrayed him.” She managed glare at that last.
And was satisfied as the Hood gave in to anger. “Impertinent child!” He slapped her, a backhanded strike that split her lip and rocked her head to the side. “I betrayed no one!” he hissed into her. “Not even my brother! I was the one betrayed! Over, and over, I was betrayed by my so-loving family, my so-called friends!”
He stormed away to stand behind the desk, hands planted on its surface and leaning towards her, his face contorted in anger. “I was betrayed!” he repeated. “Time and again. And everything I have done, everything I have become, is to reclaim what is mine by right!” He glared at her. Daring her to contradict his claim.
Kayo smirked at him, and tested the damage to her lip with the tip of her tongue. “If you say so.”
“Anyone would say so – anyone who is not my betrayer.”
Visibly calming, the Hood walked back out from behind his desk. As he drew nearer he clicked his tongue in annoyance, and pulled the kerchief from his jacket pocket. Dipping a corner into the tumbler of water, he squeezed the excess off, and reached out to her face.
Kayo jerked back, trying to evade his touch, but he grabbed her head with his other hand before gently dabbing at the injury.
“I truly regret that,” he said softly.
“Regret what? Staining your kerchief with blood?”
The Hood sighed, and slumped back into his chair, Kayo stared. She had never seen her Uncle look so … defeated. There was no other word for it. Even when captured, in handcuffs, hell, even in gaol, there had been a defiance, an air of control, as if it was all part of his plan. But now …
“You won’t believe this, but I do care about you, Kayo. I miss you.”
I miss you, Uncle, rose in her throat, but she managed to swallow them down. She missed the man he had been when she was ten. That man was dead, killed by knowledge of his actions. By what he had done.
Who he had killed.
“And I worry about you. I know Jeff Tracy is gone –”
“Which was your doing! You killed him!”
Another sigh. “If he hadn’t been trying to play the hero, Kayo, he would still be alive.”
She stared, disbelieving. “Millions would have died. If the Zero-X had exploded …”
“But it did, didn’t it? A great big giant explosion, turning both the Zero-X into atoms, and Jeff Tracy along with it. But where was the wreckage? If the explosion was going to be as big as they said it would be, how did Tracy get it far enough away? He was only gaining altitude for seconds. Not enough time for the blast radius to clear the earth, not at the speed it was doing, even if he accelerated. So where were the fatalities? The GDF planes were right underneath it, why did they survive?”
Her Uncle stared at her now, earnest. “Unless the explosion was never going to be as big as they said it would be. Unless they lied, Kayo. Why would they lie? What would they get out of it?”
Kayo just stared. She had no words to fight him with. It was a lie, she knew that, but it would be so easy to believe it.
And that scared her.
“You were young when this happened, Kayo; you believed your father, what he told you. I understand that. You didn’t really see Jeff, but I did. I was once his friend, but we fell out. He says it was my fault, but Kayo, I could see. I could see him. I could see where his path was heading, and it scared me. I tried to stop him. I’m still trying to stop him.”
He paused, calming his breathing. “You live with his sons, you call them your ‘brothers’. You think they are good men. I hope they are, Kayo, I really hope they are. But all I can see is their father, posturing and posing and seeking out the fame. Maybe they are good men, their mother was a good woman. A good person. But they were so young when she died, and they were left with him.”
A sigh. “And you were left with them.” Softly, sadly.
He paused, and checked his watch. “Our time, my dear, is nearly up. I wish we could talk longer, but as they say, time and tide wait for no man. There is just one more thing I would ask you.”
Kayo stared, struggling to understand what she had just heard.
“I love you, Kayo, my little Tanusha. Do you still love me?”
Her head still reeling for his previous words, Kayo was only half aware that she spoke: “Yes, Uncle. I still love you.”
Notes:
I had this PLANNED, dammit! But the Hood went off on a tangent and started his rant.
The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)
I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.
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blackrosesandwhump · 1 month
Text
Febuwhump Day 20: Immortality
CW: immortal whumpee, dying, blood, stomach wound, gore
The thick stage curtains were drawn, but they couldn’t keep out the noise of the crowd as Bram climbed onto the dim stage. His stomach had been knotted with dread all night. It was one thing to be stabbed or poisoned or even impaled, but an entirely different thing to have a stranger stab his claws right in your heart. It made Bram feel sick, even as he approached his human-but-definitely-not-human partner waiting at the other end of the stage.
Norrix Vangrey. Bram repeated the name in his head.
“Ready for me to kill you?” Norrix said, lazily flexing his clawed fingers.
Bram was used to dying. He was used to being killed. But the words made him shudder.
“I guess so,” he replied, keeping his voice even. Why was he so afraid this time?
The curtains slowly parted, the pulleys creaking audibly. Bram and Norrix took their places. Bram was a knight, fighting a ferocious beast. His costume armor felt uncomfortable and hot as he pretended to attack with his sword. The audience cheered and gasped. A bright light flashed close by—a camera, taking a picture just as Norrix, as the monster, gained the upper hand. Bram lost his balance and fell, his heart pounding. He knew what to expect: Norrix’s claws in his stomach. But the impact stole the breath from his lungs and sent pain shooting through his body.
His vision greyed out. Through the deepening haze, he heard the crowd gasping in horror.
What kind of creature was Norrix Vangrey, anyway…
Bram came back to life in a pool of his own blood. Horror turned to wild exclamations and applause.
Just another day in the life of the immortal Resurrecting Boy.
@whumping-to-conclusions @whumping-out-of-time @forthetaintedsorrow-whump @whumpy-writings @afabulousmrtake @whumpinthepot @silver-ink-iron-words @febuwhump
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whumpinthepot · 1 month
Text
@febuwhump 2024
Day 20. Truth serum
Content: Lab whump, needles, restraints, torture
Whumpee held down against a hospital chair with leather straps biting into their skin, rubbing raw from yanking against it. The whumper had been questioning Whumpee for hours now, getting half-assed answers that no one believed were true, no matter how brutally Whumpee was beaten.
The Whumper sighed finally and admitted they didn’t want to waste product on Whumpee like this, but Whumper was tired and their shift was almost over. They pulled out a syringe and waved it in front of Whumpees eyes. “Do you know what this is?” Whumper asked. “This is my ticket to going home tonight at a decent time.”
Before Whumpee could get an answer out, Whumper injected them in the neck with the freezing sting of liquid. They didn’t want to even guess what type of pain they were about to endure.
Yet no pain ended up coming.
After a long time of nothing, Whumpee started to question Whumpers motives with whatever the syringe was full of. It still hadn’t dawned on them what this drug was about to do.
Until Whumper started asking questions, and Whumpee was suddenly answering in full without a breath of a lie on their tongue. To Whumpees horror, no matter what they thought up, the truth was all that came out of their mouth.
Whumper was able to write everything down and go home as early as they wanted.
Thank you @ilasknives for the edits <3
General writing tag list, and febuwhump tag list: @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @blackrosesandwhump @frogkingdom @coppercoyoti @alittlewhump
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Febuwhump - Day 20
John clenches his jaw against the spasms that threaten to rip it open, the fire in his veins growing with each second. His wrists are sore from struggling uselessly against the cuffs, but that’s almost a welcome distraction from the compulsion that’s gripped him for the last…. How many hours? He’s lost track of time, no frame of reference in this dark cold room, just the relentless questions and desperate need to answer them that claws in his gut and pounds spikes in his brain. 
They ask again. Tears rolls down his face as the truth falls from his lips. 
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Cracks in the Ice (2/2)
A continuation of: Twilight fights a frozen lake and loses
Tw: drowning, broken bones, near death experience, hypothermia, nakedness (for like, wet clothes)
There was a wolf pelt laying at the edge of the hole broken into the ice. 
The portals had dropped them all at different parts of the snowy landscape of Wild’s Hebra mountain range. They all managed to find one another throughout the day amongst the bright snow drifts. All of them, that is, except for Twilight. They waited in with impatient anxiousness at the horse stable, peering out into the blinding hills and cliffs, nearly indistinguishable from one another, in the hopes that familiar furry shoulders might suddenly appear stark against the white snow. 
Once the sun began to set and even Wild began to grow nervous—Even as Wolfie, he’d whispered to Time, it wasn’t safe for him to stay out in the wilderness for that much time alone— the group decided to split into parties and go looking for him to make sure that he wasn’t hurt at Wild’s repeated insistence he should’ve found them by now. Time, Sky, and Warrior had made up the group going towards the east. Four and Hyrule stayed at the stable in case the rancher decided to show his face there, even after all this time. And Wild, Legend, and Wind were the group designated to travel to the west. By Time’s command, they were supposed to search a few miles in that direction, then return to the stable. But the sun set, and Wild pleaded they go over the crest of the next hill, just for one more good look, and it was good that he had.
“That’s the third time you’ve said that, Wild,” Legend groused, wrapping his arms around himself. The cold air bit at his exposed nose and cheeks, and his knees barely cleared the snow with each step. “Can’t we just go back? Surely the others have found him by now, and if not, we’re not gonna find him. No use in us freezing out here to death with him.”
“Hey,” Wind chided. “Just let him. We can afford to walk a few more miles.”
Legend fumed—the little sailor, scolding him? But before he could snap out a retort—
“Twilight!” Wild’s shriek split the air. In a moment, he was flying down the steep bank. Legend jumped, then his eyes caught on the same article clothing that had caught Wild’s attention. 
There was a wolf pelt laying at the edge of the hole broken into the ice.
“No, no, wait!” Legend snatched his wrist, pulling Wild back firmly. “The ice will have been weakened with his fall. If you go out onto that ice, you’ll fall in, too. You can’t help him like that.” Wild was already sputtering some refusal, wrestling himself out of Legend’s grasp, but Legend held tight. “I’ll go get him. I’ll go under and look for him. I've got an item that can help me underwater.” Legend locked eyes with Wind next. “If I find him, Wind…”
Wind nodded solemnly. “I know CPR.”
“Listen to me, Wild. Stay on the shore. No matter what. Do you understand?”
Wild nodded, gnawing nervously at his lip. Legend wasn’t sure if Wild’s ascent would hold, not really, but he didn’t have time to make sure of it. As quickly as he could, he stripped off his clothes and stepped out of his boots onto the snowy ground—the wind’s bite was savage without the thin protection of clothing, Hylia—and tossed them to Wind. Then, he went down on his hands and knees on the ice, hissing and shivering at the cold sensation across his bare skin, and propelled himself, slipping and sliding, out to the hole. He peered down into it, holding his breath. There was no shadow underneath the water, no snagged article of clothing or stap of a sword holder that had kept him near the surface. Legend braced himself, took a deep breath, and slipped head first underneath the frigid water.
The transformation didn’t hurt that much, not anymore. His legs were twisted together by the magic, rippling as it transformed skin into scales and feet into fins. Legend breathed in with the shock of cold water—usually, the transformation aided with the feeling of cold, but the water was just so frigid that it didn’t seem to help. Gills at the sides of his neck working double time, Legend wasted no time in following the undercurrent beneath the ice with a quick flick of his tail, praying that it led him to wherever Twilight had drifted, and praying that it wasn’t too late.
Hylia, for once, gave him a blessing. The water was dark and a bit murky, shaded as the sun went down, but he spotted a flash of distinct green. In an instant he was upon Twilight, catching a handhold in his baldric and turning back towards the hole in the ice. He was unconscious, his face slack and pale, little bubbles trailing from his lips. His dead, soaked weight was heavy, and Legend was trembling from the effort by the time his head breached the surface, meeting again with the freezing, relentless wind of the snowy tundra. He pulled a limp Twilight up after him, tipping his chin up above the water.
“I’ve got him!” Both boys on the shore started forwards onto the ice. “No! Don’t come any closer, I’ll come to you!
But it was rough going. Legend heaved himself up onto the ice—worries about showing off his orange-pink scales to the rest of the heroes be damned—but whenever he tried to drag Twilight up after him, the ice gave way, and they were both back in the water. Twilight’s head lolled to the side listlessly, water lapping at his slack jaw.
Legend cursed. “Just stay there! Stay there! We don’t need more people in the water. I’ll—” he floundered for a moment, and Twilight’s head nearly dipped back beneath the surface. Legend kicked his tail more desperately, propelling them both above the surface, and secured his grip beneath Twilight’s armpits, clasping his own hands around Twilight’s chest to hold him close. He was cold, so cold, and his chest did not move with breath. Legend did his best to ignore it—he had to believe that there was some hope that their rancher was still alive, somehow, or else this mission became nothing more than a body retrieval. “I’ll see if I can’t break a path closer.”
And so, that was what he had to do—claw his way up onto the ice, have it break beneath their combined weight, and flounder in the frigid water until he had enough strength to do it again, hauling the dead weight that was Twilight behind him all the while. On the shore, he could see Wild going through the motions of starting and stoking a fire, his motions panicked and flustered and his eyes drawn to the water every two seconds. Wind ventured a little ways out onto the ice, stamping his feet to make sure that it held beneath his weight, and extended his hand towards Legend.
“Get back!” Legend snarled through clacking teeth, but the boy paid him no heed. “You’ll fall in, and I can’t save both your asses.” “I’m lighter than you, I’ll be okay.” Wind edged infuriatingly closer. “Pass him here, I can grab him and pull him out.”
And finally, they met somewhere in the middle. Legend went underwater and thrust Twilight’s body up, Wind grabbed onto his arm and pulled, and finally, the ice held beneath his weight as he was heaved up onto it. Wind dragged him away from the hole in the ice, towards the shore where Wild was already running to meet him.
And then came the worst part. Legend dove back underneath the water, gathering himself up, and then propelled himself clear up out of the water. He landed with a wet smack! against the ice. His body was wracked with shivers as the transformation undid itself, a twisted tail phasing back into freezing legs and slitted gills smoothing out into unmarred skin in under a second. He fought his way up to his feet on numbed legs and scrambled across the ice after them. On the shore, Wind and Wild were already hovering over Twilight. Legend pulled his clothes back on over still wet skin—he’d regret that later, he knew—as Wind checked over the rancher. Wild wrung his hands uselessly as Wind pressed his ear to Twilight’s chest. 
“No airway movement, undetectable heartbeat!” Wind shot a fiery glance up at Legend, who only had a split second to wonder where he’d learned that jargon—Warrior, probably—before he was demanding, “I’ll start, you keep his airway open.”
Legend just nodded, moving to bow over Twilight’s head. He placed a hand under his chin, keeping his head back, then took one, two deep breaths, bent over, and blew air into his lungs. Wind, meanwhile, hammered his laced hands into the center of Twilight’s chest in a steady beat, counting 1, 2, 3, 4… underneath his breath.
“I… Is he dead?” Wild just stood and watched, a hand up over his mouth. He looked about two seconds from passing out. “He… he can’t be… Legend, he can’t—!”
“Go, get back to the stables and get the others!” Legend barked. “We need their help.”
Wild floundered, wringing his hands as he turned impossibly paler. He walked nervously in place like he was going to obey, then ended up even closer to the rancher. Legend could tell he was reluctant to leave Twilight, but the other’s needed to know where they were, quickly, if Twilight had any chance to survive.
“Wild!” Legend yelled. “Go! Now!”
Wild hesitated only for a moment longer, then his hand dropped to his Slate at his side. He was gone in a flash of blue light.
“27, 28, 29, 30! Legend!” Wind called. “Has he got anything?”
Legend grasped at the rancher’s cool, limp wrist, pressing his fingers into the artery running just underneath the skin. After a moment, he shook his head.
Wind snarled out a vitriolic curse before he went back to work, driving the heel of his palm into Twilight’s chest over and over and over again until something snapped, and then he kept going. Legend pushed another breath into his lungs, and another. Soon, Wind’s rhythm faltered as he grew tired, and they switched places with Legend in a mad scramble to keep the rancher’s blood flowing. Another switch, and Legend was just about to call it all off—he’d been under the water for so long, there was no way he was still alive—when suddenly, Twilight took a breath on his own.
They quickly turned him onto his side. He vomited up water, writhing weakly, then went limp on the pebbly, snow covered shore. It took Wind and Legend’s combined efforts to strip him of his wet clothes—hypothermia could still kill him, even if drowning didn’t—and drag him closer to the fire.
“Wind,” Legend croaked. He scrubbed the rancher’s hands between his own, trying his best to drive some warmth into the freezing skin and get his circulation going again. “Call Wild, tell him to bring more blankets and put a rush on it.”
Wind dutifully relayed the message through the pendant hanging around his neck. Wild’s voice rang back tinny and high. Wind looked over at Twilight, his brow furrowed, then sighed, “Yeah, he’s alright. He’ll be alright.”
There was an explosion of sound on the other side of the necklace. Legend shook his head fondly, then returned to rubbing circulation back into Twilight’s freezing extremities. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you, you know,” he said to an unconscious Twilight. Twilight, of course, didn’t respond, but Legend patted his head as if he had anyways. “So, stop trying to drown yourself in lakes, we aren't letting you go that easily.
Read this on ao3! Cracks In the Ice
Or check out the whole series! HotCheetoHatred's Febuwhump
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Febuwhump Day 20: Truth serum
CW: torture, drugs
AO3
---
Time grunted as another slap snapped his head round, making the chair to which he was tied rock. He coughed, spitting blood from a split lip, and looked up again at his captors as best he could, given that his one good eye was swollen almost entirely closed.
"Just give us the Rod of Seasons and this ends, kid," said one of the men standing over him.
"Long time since I've been called 'kid'," he said thickly, forcing a grin. The remark earned him another slap. He let his head hang for a moment until the room stopped swirling, then said, "Look, I don't even know what you're talking about."
It wasn't true. The Rod of Seasons was one of the items they'd seen when they visited Legend's house. But it would take a lot more than this for Time to share that information.
A hand tangled in his hair and pulled his head up, then, to his surprise, the edge of a cup was pushed to his lips. He'd had nothing to drink since they'd kidnapped him and he swallowed a mouthful of the liquid in the cup almost before he realized what was happening and, more importantly, noticed the odd aftertaste the water left on his tongue. Drugs or poison.
As soon as he realized what was happening, he tried to pull away, but the hand holding his hair kept his head still and more of the tainted water was poured into his mouth so he had to either swallow or drown. He swallowed.
Once they'd forced the whole cup down his throat, they finally released him and let his head fall forward again. He waited with bated breath to find out what exactly it was that they had just given him.
At first he didn't feel anything wrong, but gradually he became aware that his vision was blurring at the edges. Then that breathing seemed to be taking more conscious effort. He knew he should be worried about that, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. It felt distant. As if he was just watching it happen. The same thing slowly happened to the pain in his head and face. It was there, but it didn't seem to matter.
He vaguely knew he was in danger, but the fact slid away from his thoughts, too difficult to concentrate on. Too distant.
Vaguely, he wondered if this was what it was like to be really, really drunk. He'd never tried that. Perhaps it would be fun. This certainly felt kind of nice.
"Now," said a voice. It echoed slightly in Link's head. "Let's try this again."
Try what again?
Oh, yes, he did know this voice. It had been asking him questions. And was its owner the one who had been hitting him to make his head hurt? That… that sounded right.
"Where is the Rod of Seasons?"
Rod of Seasons.
Rod of Seasons.
A memory swam to the surface: a finger pointed to a short staff. A voice: "That? It's the Rod of Seasons. It does pretty much what you'd expect."
"Yes, we know what it does," said the voice, and Link realized he'd spoken the remembered words aloud. "Where is it?"
Again, the words slipped out before Link was even fully aware of them. "On the wall."
"What wall?"
From somewhere in the fog, Link remembered that he didn't want to answer their questions. He couldn't remember why, but… it felt important. Maybe… someone had asked him to keep a secret. Or this person wanted to hurt someone. Or something.
"Hey!" Fingers snapped in front of his face. "The Rod of Seasons. Where is it kept?"
Didn't he know?
Well, if he didn't know, there was probably a reason for that. Link slurred out, "It's a secret."
An impatient sigh. "OK, I get that, but you can tell me. Just tell me."
"No. It's a secret." He didn't understand why, but that… it felt important.
Another angry, impatient noise and Link's head snapped to the side with a sudden flare of pain. He yelped in surprise and looked up at the man who had just hit him.
"That hurt!" he said, not caring about the whine in his voice or the tears that spilled from his eyes.
"I know. Now tell me where the Rod of Seasons is or I'll hurt you again."
Link's breath caught in a sob. Why was this stranger hurting him? Why did any of this matter? Someone he cared about had asked him… had asked him to keep a secret… why was that wrong?
There was a throbbing, rushing noise in Link's ears as he started to cry. The floaty, distant feeling no longer felt nice. He was scared. There was so much noise. Voices shouting, crashes of metal and wood. What had he done wrong?
"It's a secret…" he whispered. "It's a secret…"
The world around him swirled and suddenly he was lying down. There were different voices now. Familiar voices.
Concussion - you hear me - time - what did…
"It's a secret," he murmured.
Something was glowing. Something crawled in the skin of his face, but he couldn't concentrate enough to wonder what it was or try to brush it away.
"OK, Time," a gentler voice said. "Can you open your eye for me?"
He hadn't realized he'd closed it. He looked up and faces swam into focus. He knew them.
"You…" he said vaguely. "You're safe. I love you all."
A couple of them exchanged concerned looks. Another laughed uncomfortably. "Oh, yeah," he said. "That's a concussion, for sure."
That was the voice that had told him about the Rod of Seasons. The one he'd promised he'd keep secrets for. Link reached for him.
"Kept your secret," he said, smiling.
The boy looked confused, but took the outstretched hand. "I, uh… thanks," he said.
"Let's get you out of here," said one of the others. Link looked up at him, his eyes caught by the bright blue of his scarf.
"'S pretty," he said. "Blue. Pretty."
"I know," chuckled the man - his brother, he realized. "Just relax. Twilight, can you carry him?"
"Y're my brother," he said, letting his eye close again. The floaty feeling was back. It felt good again, and he once more didn't care that he was starting to cry. This time it was from good feelings. "Love you all."
"We love you too, Time. Get some rest."
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